


Be Whoever You Are

by FilibusterMan



Series: Hilda X Everyone [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Kinda, Other, Trans Hilda Valentine Goneril, Trans Ingrid Brandl Galatea, figuring stuff out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilibusterMan/pseuds/FilibusterMan
Summary: Ingrid isn't quite ready to be who he is yet.  Claude can't help but meddle, but Hilda has a softer touch.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Claude von Riegan, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Hilda Valentine Goneril, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Series: Hilda X Everyone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113536
Kudos: 4





	Be Whoever You Are

It was Claude who saw him first. Claude was always watching everyone, so perhaps it was inevitable that he saw Ingrid when he let himself be who he was without thinking about the way others saw him. That was, the way he was only when he was very sure that he was completely alone. But somehow Claude had seen, and not just seen but also somehow intuited something of what Ingrid was feeling.

“Hey, friend,” he had said, startling Ingrid nearly out of his skin. He looked around, but the training grounds were empty. It was extremely early in the morning. The training grounds were always empty at this time.

“Um, were you talking to me?” he asked nervously, unsure of what Claude might even want with him.

“I don’t see any other handsome spearmen around.”

Ingrid’s face burned in an embarrassed blush, though he was deeply pleased. He coughed, turning away to hide his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He put the practice spear back on the rack. “You should probably get your eyes checked.”

Claude was at his elbow, with his lopsided grin. “Maybe. Ready for some breakfast?” He leaned forward into Ingrid’s space somewhat conspiratorially. “I know where we can find some truly excellent smoked sausage.”

Ingrid’s treacherous gut chose that moment to rumble. “I...guess,” he said, helplessly, but Claude was already pulling him out of the training grounds. To Ingrid’s surprise, though, he did not lead them to the dining hall but instead pulled them up the stairs to the second floor dorms. “What-” he began, but Claude cut him off.

“I’d wager you’ll really like breakfast,” he said. He pulled Ingrid past his own room, so he assumed perhaps Claude would bring them to his, but at the top of the next set of stairs he stopped and rapped on one of the doors three times sharply.

Hilda Valentine Goneril, of all people, opened the door, looking fresh as a daisy, which surprised Ingrid more than anything. He hadn’t realized that this was her room. They kept very different hours, but she was so close he wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. “Good morning,” she said, stepping out of the way. Claude pulled Ingrid inside before he had a chance to object.

“Good morning, Hilda. May I say, you are looking as lovely as ever this fine morning?”

“Of course I am. That’s what make-up is for. Mmm, on second thought, though, you should probably say it anyway.” She let him brush a greeting kiss over her cheek. Ingrid averted his eyes. He knew it was common between close friends in Leicester, but kissing felt so intimate to Ingrid. It was embarrassing. The fact that Hilda was so pretty did not help. “Good morning, Ingrid.”

He looked at her, trying to hide his blush. “Good morning!” he said, slightly too loudly, but she just smiled at him.

“Come have some breakfast.” She motioned to a little table she had set up near her window. It had tea service wafting the delicious smell of chamomile tea, some sort of pastries and bread, slices of sausage and cheese. His mouth watered at the sight. She offered him a chair and he sat, wondering what to eat first.

“Well!” said Claude briskly. “I’ve got a thing.”

Hilda raised an eyebrow at him. “Of course, a thing. A thing that is so dreadfully important that you have to leave the breakfast that you planned without eating.” She placed her hands on her hips. “That thing.”

He smiled apologetically. “Yeah, super last minute, this thing. Also, very very important. Though I wouldn’t say no to a slice of orange gallette for the road…” He reached towards the table and Hilda slapped his hand away.

“Breakfast is for people who stay and chat with me after waking me up at ungodly hours!” She pushed him out the door. “Though, perhaps, if I decide I like you I shall save you some.” At the door she leaned out, eyeing Claude suspiciously. “Why do I get the feeling you owe me, Claude?”

He winked. “You know I’m good for it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Claude waved to Ingrid over Hilda’s shoulder. “Later, Ingrid!” Ingrid distractedly waved to him.

Hilda shut the door in his face, grumbling as she returned to the table, though she didn’t actually seem all that put out. “Well,” she said sweetly, looking at Ingrid, who’s attention snapped to her from the tantalizing spread before him, “now that that nuisance has made himself scarce, let’s have a lovely breakfast. May I serve you some tea? You should start with a sausage roll. I understand you like smoked meats. They’re a Goneril specialty.”

They made small talk while they ate. Well, Hilda made small talk. Ingrid felt like he sucked all the air out of the room with stilted, awkward responses. If she minded, though, she didn’t let on; she was the consummate hostess. Ingrid’s cup and plate were tended to and he felt like all of Hilda’s attention was on him. It was a little overwhelming. He finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry, Hilda,” he said, breaking a short silence that followed a discussion of preferences for saddle maintenance. “I don’t have any idea why I’m here. Maybe I should-” He began to stand up.

Hilda laid a hand on his arm, and he paused. “Relax, Ingrid,” she said soothingly. “You don’t need a reason, you know. You could just be having breakfast with a charming young lady who happens to have some very fine food to share.” He sat back down heavily. “You don’t need to stay if you’re uncomfortable, but you better take this sausage with you. I got it special for you; it makes me feel all bloated.”

He awkwardly took another bite. The food was a big draw to stay. The sausage melted on his tongue, and the pastries were a surprisingly delicious accompaniment. He had no idea how Hilda (or Claude, maybe?) knew his favorite tea. “I just don’t know why  _ Claude _ brought  _ me  _ here,” he said after a moment.

Hilda nodded sagely. “Because he doesn’t communicate what he’s thinking. Don’t feel bad, Ingrid. He didn’t say why he wanted me to have you over directly, either. But I suspect I know.”

Ingrid leaned forward. “Please tell me.”

Hilda laughed. It was a musical sound that made his stomach flip. “You’re so straightforward. I like that.” Another flip, this one with some tightening. “Well, I suspect that Claude believes that you and I have something in common.” She smiled at him.

Ingrid’s mind flailed at that. What could he possibly have in common with Hilda? Their awkward small talk had made it pretty clear to him that she would probably find him dreadfully dull. She was gorgeous and stylish. She had a reputation for laziness but showed prowess in battle that belied that. Ingrid was Ingrid: he kept his hair and skin clean but nothing else, had chosen the most plain, masculine version of the uniform he had access to, and trained and studied long hours. Their family situations were completely different. His family struggled, and, thus, sent suitors his way repeatedly in hopes of changing that. Hers was in a solid position, and her father and brother both spoiled her rotten. He could not imagine her getting proposals the way that he did. Perhaps that they both flew into battle? But wyverns and pegasi were entirely different beasts, and their weapon styles were diametrically opposed.

He must have been lost in a spiral for a while, because Hilda’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Do you know about how middle names work in Leicester?”

Ingrid blinked. What did this have to do with anything? “No,” he said, picking up his tea cup.

Hilda nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “They mostly function as a way to keep house records straight. So sometimes you get one when you’re born. If your parent wants to make you their namesake, for instance. Lorenz’s father Hellman gave him Hellman as a middle name. But sometimes it changes later. Like...say someone marries into a family, or gets adopted, but there’s already someone with their given name. They would have a name added to keep them distinct from the other person. But more rarely, people change their names, and to keep the records straight, their old name becomes their middle name. See?”

Ingrid had been following this, he thought, gnawing on one of the sausage rolls. “Um. Yes?”

Hilda beamed a smile at him. “Oh, good. I’m not usually good at this explaining stuff. Anyway, that’s me! When I was born, my family named me Valentine.”

Ingrid furrowed his brow. “Valentine?” She nodded. “But then...why Hilda? Why’d you change it?”

Hilda shook her head, briefly rolling her eyes as though Ingrid had missed something obvious. “Because. Valentine is a boy’s name.”

Ingrid’s mouth went dry. He set down his tea cup, trying not to clatter. “I’m a girl,” he said immediately, defensively. He lied to himself that he had no idea why that is what he said to her.

“Are you?” she asked with interest, picking up her napkin from her lap and laying it across her small plate.

“Of course I am,” he snapped. “Of course I’m a girl. I was born that way.”

“Hey, hey,” said Hilda soothingly, taking his hand gently. “Don’t fret about it. Claude’s just sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He’s mistaken more than you might think.”

Ingrid flushed, feeling hot. Her hand was so soft in his. “I...like girls,” he blurted, looking away.

Hilda eyed him calculatingly for a moment. “Ooohhh,” she said after a moment. “That’s probably what it is. Claude’s trying to set me up!”

Ingrid panicked, looking back at Hilda. An out, but one so terrifying. “I don’t think-”

Hilda laughed, waving her free hand dismissively. “I’ll get after him, don’t worry about it. He’s been on about my love life for a while. I think he has too much time on his hands.”

“I’m sorry-”

“None of that.” Hilda squeezed his hand. “I like girls, too. And guys, and like, whoever! I just don’t think that it’s any of Claude’s business, really.” She let him go, and Ingrid immediately picked up his tea cup again to keep his hands busy. “I’m surprised, though. I figured it would be one of all those guys for you, you know? You four are like a little unit.”

Ingrid made a face. “I’ve known them forever. They’re more like brothers to me. Very bothersome brothers, at times.”

“Ugh! Brothers are the worst!” She dramatically threw up her hands, standing and retrieving a small make up kit. She sat down again, pulling out a compact mirror. “I mean, it’s like: I love you, but some space, please.” Hilda examined herself, flashing her teeth into the mirror.

Ingrid nodded. “Can I ask you something?” he blurted.

“Sure,” she said, brushing away a stray hair from her forehead.

Ingrid looked at the table, embarrassed to even ask. “How did you...How did you know that you were a girl?”

Hilda paused. She didn’t look up. “I’m a delicate flower, you know?” she said, skillfully reapplying her lip gloss. It was hypnotic the way her elegant fingers drew the perfect line. She dabbed it lightly before turning back to face Ingrid. “I always have been. My mom saw it pretty much right away, but some others, well...I had to let them see it. It’s okay to be who you are.” She smiled brightly at him.

Ingrid swallowed heavily. “I...I should go.”

Hilda glanced out the window. “You’re not wrong. Don’t you normally train before class?”

“Yes.” Ingrid stood up. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Anytime, Ingrid.”

They were friendly the rest of the year. Hilda gently flirted, and Ingrid pretended to be too dense to get it so he didn’t have to admit to anything. Then they were all scattered back to their homes to deal with war and Byleth’s disappearance.

Until they weren’t.

So much had changed. Hilda stood in her old room with her hands on her hips. Nothing was damaged. Just very, very dusty. This was going to be work. Probably sweaty work. She frowned.

“Hello, Hilda,” said a familiar, though slightly deeper, slightly huskier voice.

Hilda turned around. A sturdy solider with close cropped blonde hair smiled at her from the open doorway. She returned his smile. “Well, hello, handsome!” she said. “It’s been a long time since you last came here.”

He stepped into the room, looking around. “Is it weird it seems smaller? I haven’t gotten any taller.”

“I think you’re standing a bit taller than last time.”

He looked down at her, bringing a hesitant hand to her shoulder. “You just might be right.” He toyed with her hair. “It’s...It’s Brandl, now,” he said.

“Yay!” she squealed, and threw her arms around him. He took a step back, surprised, then returned her embrace. “I am so proud of you!” She pulled back in his arms, looking up at his face. “Brandl. It suits you.”

Brandl Galatea blushed. “Thanks.”

Hilda gave him a sly look. “Are you ready to kiss me yet?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest.

He smiled, then tipped her chin up towards him. “Finally,” he said. He leaned down and kissed her softly. When he pulled away, there were stars in her eyes.

“Finally,” she agreed, and jumped into his arms, laughing.


End file.
